


Specter

by remanth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Specter, Stucky - Freeform, pre-stucky, the winter soldier coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving his target, the Winter Soldier tries to figure out exactly why he did it. And who he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Specter

He still wasn’t quite sure why he did it. Why he leaped into the water and dragged his target to safety on the bank of the lake. Maybe it was the way he didn’t fight back. Maybe it was because of the words that ran on a loop in the back of his mind. _I’m with you, till the end of the line_. More unsurety, more confusion, more going against his mission parameters. But there was something buried deep inside him that wouldn’t allow him to let the man drown. Something that had always been there, he thought, but was the loudest it had been in a long time.

The confusion, that voice, and those words made him leave once he was sure the man was breathing. Whatever he meant, whoever he was, had to wait until he knew himself. There were two parts of him that he had to reconcile somehow. Two men in his head where there should only be one. But which one? Which one was really him and which was a... reflection, a creation of the people he thought he should be working for?

At least he had a name to go on. Bucky. Whether that was first, last, or a nickname, he again wasn’t quite sure. But the name raised the specters of memory, of feeling, of a deep and abiding love and loyalty for a pair of blue eyes in a scrawny face. Those eyes were the same as his target’s though no longer in a scrawny face and body. A sudden burst of understanding and he knew he had a place to start. He knew he knew his target, knew he was important. His target would lead him to who he was.

It only took a quick internet search in a cafe after stealing some clothes to change into. His uniform was too conspicuous, too familiar to those who might be coming after him. The jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie felt strange on his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn clothes like this. Or if he ever had before. The internet search led him to one of the Smithsonians where there was an exhibit on Captain America. That was what his target was called though the name didn’t resonate with him like his face did. He grabbed a baseball cap from a street vendor, walking away before anyone noticed he’d taken the thing off the cart and headed to the museum.

It was child’s play for him to get in without drawing attention to himself. Following the crowd, he studied the banners hanging from the ceiling. Captain America looked down on the patrons, giant and strong and dependable. At least, that’s what he assumed that was how he was supposed to look. He rode the elevator up, shoulders hunched and head down so no one could get a clear look at his face. He broke away from the crush of people to stand in front of a diorama. Several mannequins wearing uniforms stood there with giant images of the men who’d worn them behind. One, directly to the right of the empty space, was a uniform that again sparked the specters of memory. The uniform was about his size, in a color he particularly liked. And behind it, a face that he’d seen infrequently over the past several years: his own. It was different from his own, though the thousand-yard stare in the eyes was the same. There was something more... innocent about that face than what he’d seen staring back at him in reflections. Who was he?

Turning, he was drawn to a glass panel with a photograph and words etched onto it. The photograph was of him, again, and the words were headed by James Buchanan Barnes in big letters. The name felt right to him, though Bucky was more comfortable. Especially in the mouth of his target. He read about himself, learning everything he could from the little explanation on the glass panel. There were things there he couldn’t quite believe, things he’d done that were the opposite of things he’d been ordered to do for the last several years. And then he’d read he’d died. That he’d fallen from a train and been lost on a mission. And suddenly, the pain that he’d ignored in his target’s voice the first time he’d spoken to him made sense. They’d been so close that even this little explanation included that.

More memories rose up now, memories of his life so long ago. A life when he’d been young and innocent and carefree. And then not so innocent and carefree but still determined to protect the person who meant the most to him in all the world. As the onslaught of memories threatened to overwhelm, he pushed them back and made his way as quickly as he could out of the exhibit. He’d gotten the information he’d needed and didn’t need to see anymore. Now what he needed was privacy and safety. When he finally let the tidal wave of his past break, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to let him go for a while. But he could accept that, wanted to know who he was. The specter of his past had been held at bay long enough. It was time to see if he could become Bucky again. Or at least, take back pieces of his identity. Then to find Steve.


End file.
